


Shared Memories

by dragonwriter24cmf



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Introspection, Life threatening situations, Memories, POV Alternating, Psychic Bond, Quotations, Spoilers, Uneasy Allies, Uneasy Truce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22423051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwriter24cmf/pseuds/dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: Post 'The Long Night of Londo Mollari'. Londo survived, but there was a price. Both he and G'kar find themselves reliving their memories of G'kar's capture and imprisonment on Centauri Prime. But can seeing painful memories in a new light help forge a tentative peace between them, or is their enmity too long and deeply established?
Kudos: 4





	1. Long Association/The Face of an Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to the creators of Babylon 5.

**Shared Memories**

**Long** **Association** **(G'Kar's** **POV)**

_“_ _I'm_ _sorry._ _G'Kar...I'm_ _sorry._ _”_

Words he'd never expected to hear. At least not from Mollari, of all people. G'Kar settled back into his chair, frowning at the far wall.

Sheridan, perhaps, might have said those words. Had said them, once or twice. Deleen as well. Micheal Garibaldi had said them more than once, when he'd seen the scars left by G'Kar's imprisonment, and heard the Narn had gone to look for him. But Mollari...

G'Kar shook his head, trying to banish thoughts that wouldn't settle. The entire past two days had been strange enough to induce a headache for him. He'd heard, like most of the station, that Londo Mollari had collapsed of heart failure. As long as they'd been at each others throats, he'd expected to feel...happy. Relieved, at least. He hadn't expected to be concerned. He hadn't expected the voice, deep inside, that didn't want the infuriating Centauri Ambassador to go. Hadn't expected the deep seated feeling that had drawn him to the other man's bedside, against all odds, reliving their shared past as he watched Mollari fight for his life.

They'd met during the Earth-Minbari War, very briefly. Both trying to offer influence to the young human government. But even then there'd been something between them. Something in Mollari's eyes that startled him, that first meeting. That made both of them hesitate. He wanted to believe it had been simple surprise, that one moment of measuring each other up, deciding where the other man stood.

He couldn't remember what conclusion he'd come to, if he'd bothered. It didn't matter. Only a few years later, the Babylon 5 station had been built, they'd both become ambassadors and the situation had quickly resolved itself into one they both felt comfortable with. Hate. Pure, undiluted, unreasonable hate. Hatred simply because, on his side, the other man was the 'evil oppressive Centauri'. What Londo had hated him for he had no idea, possibly simply that he was a Narn. By the end of their first few months, he'd made it personal by attacking Ragesh 3 and holding Londo's nephew at gunpoint. By the time the Shadow War broke out, they'd each had a list a mile long of insults, slights, and provocations. He couldn't even remember all of them, though he was certain he'd written them down in his journal somewhere.

The worst, for him at least, had been the moment when the old Emperor had offered to speak with him. He had delivered a message through Franklin saying that he wished to redress the wrongs done to the Narns, and wanted to start by becoming G'Kar's friend, if only for the short time he had left. For one strange, exhilarating moment, he'd believed things could change. Then he'd received word that Narns had been bombed and attacked, that war had been started, and Mollari had been behind it. That his people were being oppressed again, and he could do nothing. He'd have killed Mollari then, if he could. Ripped him apart with his bare hands. He'd even tried, and only Sheridan had stopped him.

G'Kar glanced around his room, remembering how he'd destroyed it in the wake of Sheridan's defense of Mollari. Even knowing the human was right hadn't helped. He'd torn apart everything he could and broken every stick of furniture in an all-consuming rage of grief, then collapsed to the floor to weep. He was grateful that Sheridan had said nothing of it, when he'd found him later, sitting amid the wreckage with the Book of G'Quan in his arms. Even more grateful that Mollari had never known, what that moment had done.

A grim smile crossed his face. Strange, how he'd been forced to defend Mollari's life after that. His own people wanted to assassinate the Centauri, but he'd known that Sheridan was right. If they moved in vengeance, they lost all hope of support from the others. Not that they'd gotten much help, but anything was better than none. He'd at least received sanctuary, and kept one member of the government alive. Of course, it had cost him a knife in the back, when his own people became angry that he wouldn't let them rage.

Perhaps it had been that, or perhaps it had simply been his own pain and anger, that had led him to take the human drug known as Dust. A highly potent thing that had temporarily given him the abilities of a telepath. He'd used them to break open Mollari's mind, wreaking another kind of destruction in his wake, until the Vorlon had stopped him. Until Kosh had stepped into _his_ mind and told him that the only hope he had of saving his people was to forgive Mollari, and the Centauri. Had offered him a chance for salvation, the price being to forgo vengeance.

He'd remembered that. Remembered enough to release Mollari. Remembered it even though he hated the man for what was done to his world. Even when he'd hated Mollari for what had been done to him. G'Kar settled back, staring unseeing at the wall. Remembering.

**The** **Face** **of** **an** **Enemy** **(Londo's** **POV)**

_“_ _I'm_ _sorry._ _G'Kar...I'm_ _sorry._ _”_

Words he'd never expected to say. Certainly not to G'Kar, of all people. Londo frowned, and shifted against the hospital pillows, trying to get comfortable. He wished Vir were here. His assistant, friend if he was willing to admit it, would distract him from the thoughts that circled around his head.

He hadn't expected G'Kar to be there when he woke. Even though he'd known, somehow, that G'Kar was there in his mind, he hadn't expected the Narn to be there, beside his bed. Watching him. And how the other man had heard him through the glass was a mystery he couldn't even begin to fathom. Even thinking about why and how the Narn had wound up saving him made his head hurt.

He remembered when he'd first seen G'Kar's face. Seen it in a dream of his own demise. The Narn who would one day strangle him to death. At the time, he'd had no notion who it was. But then, he'd encountered G'Kar on Earth, where they were both dealing with the humans, and he'd known that this was the man to whom his destiny was tied. That this man was his enemy.

A grim smile touched his face. Of course, G'Kar hadn't known any of that. He didn't know about the Centauri ability to see their deaths. And Londo had never told him. But...he remembered that first true meeting. That instant of sizing each other up, and the split second when G'Kar's surprise had mirrored his own shock. He'd wondered often since then if his feelings had simply been too strong, or if G'Kar was somehow telepathic. A natural telepath on a very low level, one who'd been somehow protected. Or perhaps even then, the ties of destiny had begun to wind around them, pulling them into the strange bond they now shared.

Not that it had mattered. Barely a handful of years later, they'd both come to Babylon 5. Within months, the Narns had attacked Ragesh 3 and captured his nephew, Carn. The unprovoked attack had ignited fury in his stomach, in his hearts, and he'd directed it to the nearest available target. G'Kar. That the man deserved it had mattered less than the fact that he was Narn, that he was there, and most of all, that he was destined to be an enemy anyway, so they might as well start things out on the right foot. Besides, he knew G'Kar hated him for being Centauri, and he thought he might as well return the sentiment.

The years since then had been filled with incidents, petty and otherwise. Not that either of them ceased to be ambassadors, but neither of them minded digging in a needle, or causing a scene. G'Kar had stolen important files from him once, and he'd retaliated. Sometimes, he did things simply to shake G'Kar up. He still remembered his birthday party, where he'd been granted a divorce and had invited the entire station. He'd even invited G'Kar, knowing full well the Narn understood protocol, and would do his best to flaunt it in some way. He'd been delighted when G'Kar had behaved true to form and shown up wearing boots. It had been so much fun to make light of it, to wrap his arm around G'Kar's shoulders talk about 'his good friend G'Kar'. To watch the Narn's face twitch in confusion, and watch him walk away, muttering about a headache.

Londo sighed and shifted once more on the medical bed. He wondered, idly, what might have happened, had he not accepted Morden's aid. Had he not, in a fit of pique, told the man he wanted to see the Empire restored and the Narns wiped out, or at least ground into the dirt. He'd been annoyed, he'd been provoked but somehow, he knew deep in his soul that he'd gone too far. Whatever G'Kar had done, and he'd done a great number of things, it all paled in comparison to that one moment when he, Londo, had done the unthinkable.

His Emperor had wanted peace, and G'Kar had come to him, speaking of the possibility of change. Of ending the feud. But he hadn't wanted to take the risk, and he'd sent the Shadows to attack. He knew G'Kar would never forgive him for that. Knew it wasn't the attack that had ignited the fire of hatred between them, so much as it was the betrayal. The Narn had lowered his guard for one moment, and he had shoved a knife in and broken it into the wound. He knew G'Kar had tried to kill him for it, and hadn't blamed him. He'd done the same over Ragesh 3. And just the same, the humans had formed a wall between them. Londo had watched, and wondered briefly if he should let the Narn kill him. He hadn't been surprised when they'd declared war, and he'd known in his hearts that they were doomed, because he had the Shadows, and G'Kar had...no one.

Londo winced at the memories, wishing they would go away. Wishing Dr. Franklin would let him have alcohol so he could get drunk and refuse to see them, as he had so often done since that day. Wishing Vir would show up to chat with him, yell at him, fuss over him. Anything but the introspection. Of course, nothing was forthcoming. It was the middle of the night, after all. He sighed, and resigned himself to his memories.

He remembered the months of the war, from the time it began to the time the Narns had been forced into submission, with mass drivers hurling asteroids at the planet. It had been a terrible thing to do, and he'd been almost surprised that G'Kar hadn't tried to kill him again. After seeing what the rain of rock had done, he'd gotten drunk. Very drunk. Drunk enough that he wouldn't have noticed if the infuriated Narn had tried to strangle him to death.

Of course, G'kar had known better. Instead, he'd devised a much more powerful revenge. He'd drugged himself, then attacked, using human drugs to enhance telepathy and break into his mind. That day was still one of his worst nightmares. He dreamed sometimes, of finding G'Kar standing over him, mocking him, of feeling the Narn ripping through his mind, his memories, looking for every humiliating scrap he could find and gloating. What had stopped the man, he never knew, much less why G'Kar had called for a med team, and a security team, and turned himself in. The very oddness of it had been why he hadn't pressed for a maximum sentence, or asked Sheridan to have the Narn thrown off the station.

Londo frowned into the darkness once more. Odd. G'Kar's invasion of his mind and memories had been one of his worst nightmares. And yet...the Narn had apparently done it again, while he was on his deathbed. Had stepped into his mind, across the gap between them, and taken his hand. Oh, he'd been brutal, harsh, and terrifying, but the memory of that dark confrontation didn't frighten him this time. It was, in many ways, almost a relief. He wondered why. He cast his mind over the shadowy fragments of the dreams. They'd definitely relived parts of his past, the parts he drank to forget. But then, those memories had been ones he and G'kar shared. Memories of blood and fire and pain. He hadn't dared to look at them, not wanting to see them, but in the wake of what had happened...Londo relaxed and let his mind take him where it would.


	2. Capture/The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> G'kar's capture.

**Capture** **(G'Kar's** **POV)**

When was the last time he'd truly hated Mollari? G'Kar's mind felt restless, and the question surprised him, coming from nowhere. When? He knew he had hated the man, but he wasn't sure he could call his feelings for Mollari now hate. When had it changed? He sought back in his mind, for the last moment he knew he'd have done anything to kill the man. For a moment, it eluded him, and then a memory rose to the surface.

He'd hated Mollari beyond belief after what had happened to home-world. The Vorlon command had been enough to make him release the Centauri, not enough to stop the rage that filled him. Not enough to end his fury. But...there had been one moment...

He remembered being captured by the Centauri, while looking for Garibaldi. Remembered being shot, beaten and chained. They'd taken him to Centauri Prime, to the capital, to the Emperor. One look had told him that Cartagia was a mad dog, better shot than ruling. He remembered the contempt, under the twisting in his gut, that the Centauri had allowed this man to take the throne. But that had paled in front of his other emotion, when he saw the man beside the Emperor.

Mollari. Standing there, apparently happy, apparently healthy, and certainly in royal favor at the moment. Remembered Mollari's face, as the emperor proudly announced that G'Kar was a _gift_ , a toy, for Mollari's amusement. That he was was an object, to be used, abused and discarded. It had enraged him, though he'd known showing that rage would be suicide. But worse than the emperor's announcement had been the look on Mollari's face.

Gratitude. Happiness. He'd acted as if he was indeed receiving a gift. G'Kar could still remember the way he'd thanked Cartagia. Even beaten as he was, he'd heard the sincerity in Londo's voice as he expressed his gratitude. And he'd seen his eyes when the man had turned back to him. Gratitude, like a man granted a gift from heaven. And that...that he had hated.

He'd hated knowing what they were likely to do with him. Hated knowing he had no way out at the moment. And he'd certainly hated the fact that Mollari was going to be there to see it. But most of all, he'd hated Mollari, hated him for that look of joy on his face. They were enemies, and he would have cheerfully watched if Mollari had been in chains. But that Londo could look so relieved over what would be done to him...his blood had boiled, and he'd known, in that moment, that he hated the man more than anything in the galaxy. And then...G'Kar sighed, and let his memories lead him into the darkness.

**The** **Gift** **(Londo's** **POV)**

When had his hatred of G'Kar vanished? The thought surprised him. Nonetheless, it was true. He didn't really hate the Narn anymore. He hadn't hated him for years. The unwavering rage had slowly diminished during the war, crushed under the knowledge that he had committed a terrible wrong against the other race. And an equally terrible one against G'Kar himself. He could remember nights when he'd replayed the dream of his death over and over in his mind, trying to convince himself to hate. Days when he'd deliberately tried to provoke the Narn, to get a rise, so he could see that anger and use it to armor his own soul in rage. He'd been almost glad of the Dust incident. It gave him more fuel for the fire. But he'd been removed from Babylon 5 to the Court, and that had made it much more difficult. But he'd managed.

When had it stopped? He sought the answer, and found it in his memories. Of course. That day. He closed his eyes, remembering the moment.

He'd known early on that Cartagia was insane. That he was mad, evil, and needed to be destroyed. He'd also known that he couldn't do it alone, that he couldn't reach the Emperor in any way. Even if he succeeded in an outright assassination, he'd not get away, and someone worse could take his place. When he'd realized the Shadows were on his world, he'd known it was even worse. That if he dispatched Cartagia, they'd choose a new monster for the throne. He'd been waiting for an opportunity, praying to the Great Maker every time he walked by the throne room for a chance.

Then he'd been summoned to the throne room, in the dead of the night. He'd come, as expected. Made his excuses, as expected. Considered stabbing Cartagia in the heart and seeing how much damage he could do. An urge he suppressed. And then, Cartagia had told him he had a gift for him. A present. He'd heard the chains, wondered if his 'gift' was a trip to the royal dungeons as a prisoner, and turned. And seen...him. G'Kar.

His first reaction was shock. Shock that the Narn had left Babylon 5 and wound up here. Shock at the other man's beaten, battered, appearance, the way he staggered under the stocks and chains. Then he'd seen the fire in his old enemy's eyes. The smouldering fury in his gaze. And he'd known. Known that here was his chance, the one he'd hoped for. That this man could give him his opening. There was no doubt it would be difficult. Even as the idea hit him, he'd known it would be terrible. And yet....if G'Kar's presence wasn't his answer, his salvation, then he wasn't likely to get another. Only G'Kar, of all the people he knew, had the strength and audacity to participate in this madness he was caught up in. He'd been completely sincere when he'd thanked the Emperor. Absolutely and completely sincere. He'd seen the flare of hatred in G'kar's eyes when he made his thanks. He'd known the Narn believed he was looking forward to Cartagia's...entertainment. But it hadn't mattered. Not then.

Londo smiled into the darkness. In that moment, that had been when the last of his hatred had collapsed. When he'd seen G'Kar and realized the other man could save them. It was, after all, very difficult to hate one's salvation. And he couldn't hate G'Kar, not with what he was about to ask of him. He'd known, as he watched the Narn being dragged away, that it was impossible to ask him for this in hatred. Of course, he'd known G'Kar might hate him and still agree. By the Maker, he'd not have been surprised if G'Kar had agreed because he hated him and hoped to take a crack at him. As he'd paced the darkened corridors a part of him had almost hoped for it, knowing G'Kar would need that blind rage to survive what he had been asked to do.

Londo closed his eyes, letting the memory take him. He'd already started this trail of reminiscence, for whatever reason. He might as well see it through. It wasn't as if he had anything else to do.


	3. Bargain with the Devil/A Chance at Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> G'Kar and Mollari make their deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: This is where it starts to get intense. And ugly.

**Bargain** **with** **the** **Devil** **(G'Kar's** **POV)**

G'Kar frowned, and poured himself a drink. He didn't want to remember what had come after he'd been taken away. It was one of the worst periods of his life, and he had no wish to relive it. And yet...faced with what had happened earlier in the day, he found himself returning to those memories. Through the thin link of minds he'd brought Londo to face them, showed him proof of his inadequacy, but something had touched his mind as well. Something...that felt off-center, that didn't fit with the blind hate he believed he'd felt. He closed his eyes, remembering what had come.

They'd thrown him in a prison cell, shackled to the walls. He had no idea how long he'd sat there, awaiting his fate, but then the door had opened, and Mollari had entered. He'd thought the other man would leave the door open, as a safety. He'd thought the other man would mock him, gloat. Make cracks about how the mighty had fallen. It was something Londo would have done before. But he hadn't. He'd stood there, awkward, barely managing to say hello. G'Kar remembered the odd light in his eyes. And when the Centauri finally began to speak, there'd been no mockery. No cruelty. Only words. Words so surprising that G'Kar still remembered them. He closed his eyes, and let the words replay in his memory.

_“_ _You_ _were_ _foolish_ _to_ _leave_ _Babylon_ _5,_ _G'Kar._ _”_ _Londo_ _had_ _thrown_ _him_ _a_ _dark_ _look,_ _almost_ _amused,_ _but_ _too_ _shadowed_ _for_ _laughter._ _“_ _If_ _you_ _wanted_ _to_ _die,_ _why_ _didn't_ _you_ _contact_ _me?_ _I_ _would_ _have_ _arranged_ _it._ _Quickly,_ _and_ _with_ _a_ _measure_ _of_ _dignity._ _But_ _here...here..._ _”_ _He_ _stopped,_ _dropped_ _onto_ _a_ _nearby_ _bench_ _with_ _a_ _sigh,_ _and_ _all_ _humor_ _fled_ _from_ _his_ _face._ _“_ _Here,_ _they_ _will_ _make_ _you_ _into_ _a_ _toy._ _And...you_ _will_ _be_ _tortured._ _You_ _will_ _be_ _tortured_ _for_ _a_ _very_ _long_ _time._ _Hours._ _Days._ _Months._ _I_ _have_ _seen_ _them_ _prolong_ _suffering._ _And_ _when_ _they_ _are_ _done,_ _they_ _will_ _strap_ _you_ _to_ _a_ _table,_ _and_ _make_ _an_ _incision,_ _below_ _the_ _neck._ _”_ _His_ _hand_ _gestured,_ _making_ _it_ _painfully_ _clear_ _what_ _he_ _meant,_ _and_ _how._ _“_ _Then,_ _they_ _will_ _open_ _you._ _Assuming_ _you_ _are_ _still_ _conscious,_ _they_ _will_ _begin_ _removing_ _your_ _organs._ _And_ _somewhere_ _along_ _the_ _way...you_ _will_ _die._ _”_

The words hadn't surprised him. Not much. He'd heard the rumors, of course. But the grimness in Londo's voice had been startling. So had the dark resignation in the other man's eyes. He almost would have called it sorrow, had it been anyone else. It flew in the face of the expression he'd seen on Londo's face earlier. The surprise, the contradiction, had been what led him to ask. _“_ _Does_ _this_ _please_ _you?_ _”_

Londo had surprised him. That he denied it was a little bit un-nerving. But that he had meant the denial, that had been astounding. G'Kar had been unnerved himself, startled by the feeling that this was the true Londo Mollari, the man behind the mask. His mind insisted on replaying the words.

_“_ _No._ _Once,_ _long_ _ago..._ _”_ _Londo_ _shook_ _his_ _head._ _“_ _No._ _Not_ _even_ _then._ _You_ _have_ _never_ _been_ _a_ _friend_ _to_ _me,_ _but_ _what_ _he_ _will_ _do_ _to_ _you_ _I_ _do_ _not_ _wish_ _for_ _anybody._ _”_

G'Kar grimaced and took another drink. To say they'd never been friends was like saying the universe was big. The words were completely inadequate. And he knew damn well that there'd been times that Londo had tried to rip him open himself. And yet...he knew, and had known then, that the man had meant it. Just as he'd meant what he'd said, when he'd knelt upon the dungeon floor and spoken softly into G'Kar's ear.

_“_ _There_ _is_ _a_ _monster_ _on_ _the_ _throne,_ _a_ _well-protected_ _monster._ _You_ _can_ _help_ _me_ _get_ _rid_ _of_ _it._ _I_ _believe_ _I_ _can_ _save_ _your_ _life,_ _but_ _it_ _will_ _be_ _difficult._ _You_ _will_ _suffer_ _greatly_ _before_ _this_ _is_ _over._ _”_ _Mollari_ _had_ _turned_ _his_ _face_ _away,_ _a_ _very_ _brief_ _spasm_ _of_ _pain_ _flickering_ _across_ _it._ _“_ _I_ _cannot_ _help_ _that._ _I_ _wish_ _that_ _I_ _could._ _I_ _do_ _not_ _wish_ _to_ _see_ _you_ _suffer._ _However,_ _I_ _must_ _watch,_ _and_ _you_ _must_ _endure,_ _until_ _the_ _time_ _is_ _right._ _And_ _then...we_ _will_ _take_ _care_ _of_ _it._ _You_ _will_ _help_ _me,_ _yes?_ _”_

He'd known he would. Because as much as he'd hated Mollari, Cartagia was worse. And because he'd seen that flicker of pain in his old enemy's face, heard the sincerity in his words. And it had been that one flicker, those quiet words, that had led him to do something he'd never have considered before. To bargain. To offer his help, his life and suffering, for the sake of his world. To promise his complete cooperation, to free both their worlds. He'd known, somewhere deep inside, that this was the moment Kosh had warned him of, the moment he could save both their peoples. More, he'd known that this Mollari, this man who'd whispered those words, might do it. And so he'd bargained.

_“_ _You_ _didn't_ _ask_ _the_ _price._ _You_ _wish_ _my_ _cooperation,_ _for_ _the_ _sake_ _of_ _your_ _people._ _I_ _will_ _give_ _it,_ _for_ _the_ _sake_ _of_ _my_ _own._ _If_ _I_ _do_ _this,_ _remove_ _the_ _monster_ _from_ _your_ _throne,_ _you_ _must_ _remove_ _the_ _monster_ _from_ _my_ _world._ _Leave_ _Narn._ _Set_ _us_ _free._ _”_

A hell of a bargain, made with a man he had considered Hell's Ambassador. But he'd known it would be worth it, if Mollari agreed. And...Londo had. He'd looked like death warmed over, like there was a knife to his throat, but he'd agreed. He'd given his word. And G'kar had taken it, because he'd known that this man...the man who stood before him truly meant it.

G'Kar swallowed, looking into the candles light that lit his room. That moment, he'd felt like he was making a bargain with the devil, and had no doubt Mollari felt the same. It had been almost a physical wrench, a pain in his soul, when Mollari had nodded and walked out the door. He still remembered sitting, gasping, feeling that sick feeling in his gut. Knowing what was to come and praying he hadn't been a fool.

**A** **Chance** **for** **Salvation** **(Londo** **POV)**

Londo scowled, and took a sip of water. The memory of what had come next was an uncomfortable one. But then he couldn't think of a single memory of that time that wasn't uncomfortable. He resigned himself to it and let his mind replay the scene.

It had taken him a few hours to come up with an idea. Once he'd known what he wanted to do, he'd gone to see G'Kar. He'd found him shackled to the walls, his face bloody, and only the eyes as he remembered them. Dark, angry, red with hatred. He'd stood, staring at the wall, barely able to muster a greeting. He'd known what G'Kar must think of him, and he felt almost ashamed to admit that there'd been a time when G'Kar would have been right. When he would have come and gloated. The thought gave him a little room to breathe, allowed him to find a weak taunt to throw at his enemy, and possible ally. A taunt of foolishness that rang hollow even then, but nonetheless allowed him to get his feet under himself.

He'd been brutally honest with the Narn. While he hadn't gone into graphic details, except for the execution, he had made it plain. He'd known that he had to tell G'Kar everything, that he wouldn't allow the Narn to walk into this blindly. So he'd told him. Told him how Cartagia would play with him. How he would suffer, as long as they could make him. And what the end would be.

It hadn't surprised him when the Narn had asked if it would please him. But when he opened his mouth, he was almost as surprised as the other by his answer. No, it didn't please him. Never would have. There were time's he'd have loved to shoot the other man, gut him with a knife. Times he'd thought longingly of roasting him on an open fire. But those had been times of fury, gone fast. And those fates were mild compared to Cartagia's idea of fun. He'd said so, and seen G'Kar's surprise. But more than that, he'd seen that the other man believed him. And that, that gave him hope enough to move forward, to kneel and offer G'Kar his bargain. Live. Suffer. Bleed. And together, they could destroy Cartagia. Because G'kar was just stubborn enough to give him the opening. Just exasperating enough to push even Cartagia to be reckless.

It had come as a surprise, to feel that odd clenching in his gut when he spoke of G'Kar's suffering. He hadn't meant to say what he had, about wishing he could prevent it. But once the words were out, he'd known he meant them. That he did not wish to see this man, this strong, brave man, endure what must be done. Not even if he was an enemy.

It had been that feeling that had stopped him, when G'Kar spoke of the price. When the Narn demanded an equal bargain, one world for the other. And it had driven him to agree to that bargain. He knew he could do it, that if they succeeded, he would have enough political clout to do as G'kar asked. He'd looked into those blood red eyes, seen the desperation and determination, and said yes. Given his promise to a man who had just accepted agony, for his world's sake, because he couldn't do anything else.

Londo grimaced into the darkness and took another drink of water. He'd kept his word, and G'Kar had kept his. He still remembered the days that had followed their agreement. He hoped the Narn didn't remember them as clearly as he did.


	4. Agony and Humiliation/The Price of Watching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of G'Kar's ordeal

**Agony** **and** **Humiliation** **(G'Kar's** **POV)**

G'Kar's hand tightened on the glass he held. The memories that followed his agreement with Mollari were somewhat blurred. He was somewhat grateful for that. But just the thought of them awoke half remembered pains, phantom anguish.

Mollari hadn't lied to him. But even knowing Cartagia and his court would torture him, humiliate him, hadn't prepared him for what they'd done. The grinding, day after day agony he'd been subjected to.

They'd starved him, of course, and kept him dehydrated. It had been one of their games, both the actual act, and the taunts they used, trying to force him to beg for water, or food. He'd refused to respond, even when his gut churned and ached. Even when he shook and went dizzy from the lack of food and water. But he'd refused to say anything. He'd been raised on home-world, and his family had originally been slaves, and abused ones at that. He'd known what it meant to be hungry, thirsty, desperate. There was no way that could break him, even if it had been years since he'd suffered it.

The humiliation had been harder to bear. Much harder. They'd taunted him, kicked him, mocked him. Cartagia's court were masters of mockery, subtle and otherwise. He still remembered days when they'd yanked him from his cell, to chain him and force him into some ridiculous outfit, then thrust him into the throne room, where well-dressed Centauri pushed him this way and that, jeered and mocked him. Kicked his feet out from under him. He'd wanted to get angry, but he'd known that it would do no good. If he'd ever given in to that fury he'd have died right there in that throne room.

He'd almost never seen Mollari during those days. That had been a blessing. Whatever the terms of their bargain, he hadn't wanted Mollari to see that. He knew the Centauri had said he would watch, while he endured, but the less seen, the better. Whether Londo had understood his feelings, or simply had no stomach to watch what was done, what his agreement had brought him to, it had never mattered.

The taunts had become more brutal over time, and of course his lack of reactions had displeased the Emperor. The torture had come, as he'd known it would. Little torments at first. A nail studded crown while they kicked him about the throne room. Small burns, light slashes. He'd put up with it, concentrating each moment on keeping his formidable temper in check, storing up the incidents as fuel for the white hot rage. Then they'd bound him, and begun to truly torture him, and it had become much easier. All he'd had to do was keep his mouth shut and live with the pain.

The memory brought with it phantom pains. Memories of agony. Memories of men, most especially Cartagia, standing over him with various instruments, and applying them to his body. Memories of his blood splattering the walls and the floor. G'Kar swallowed against a dry throat, thankful that those memories were blurred, made indistinct by the pain and the hunger and raging thirst.

He frowned, remembering. He had seen Mollari a few times during those days. Once or twice, and almost always in passing. His mind pulled up a memory of the other man standing in the doorway, watching him, his face tight. At the time, he'd wondered why Mollari looked so stressed, and assumed it was because of his plans. But now, remembering that still face framed by the door, he wondered if the compassion he'd heard before had still been there. Their eyes had met, and he'd seen Londo's mouth form the syllables of his name, breathed with horror, regret and pity. Not loud enough for him to hear, save along that delicate mind link. But enough to hold him. He wondered why he hadn't remembered that before. Then a grim smile touched his mouth. Of course he hadn't remembered. Shortly after that Cartagia had taken him, and that memory had been blotted out by an entirely different one. He closed his eyes, his hand clenching as he remembered.

**The** **Price** **of** **Watching** **(Londo's** **POV)**

Londo swallowed, trying to wipe the dryness out of his throat, trying to be distracted by it. But it didn't help. His mind insisted on replaying what had happened after that.

He had his duties at the court, his business. He'd gone about both, less from work ethic than from the knowledge that Cartagia had G'Kar. And he'd not wanted to witness what they'd do to the Narn. Despite his words, he'd known that he had no stomach to see G'Kar humiliated and tortured. Even more, he knew the other man didn't want him to see it. Suffering G'Kar could endure. But he was a proud man, even bound in chains, and Londo suspected the less he saw of G'Kar, the better, at least until the proper time approached.

Not that he didn't pay attention. He'd known he had to keep an eye on the situation. Otherwise things could have spiraled out of control. And if G'kar had died, then everything they'd both bargained for was finished. Still, he'd preferred to listen to gossip about the Narn, rather than to witness the events first hand.

He recalled one moment when he had seen the Narn. The man had been in chains, a spiked jesters hat attached to his head. They'd been taunting him with water, making fun of him. One man had kicked his feet out from under him, and as he fell, their eyes met. He'd seen the grim resolution in the other man's eyes, and the pain there. But determined. Those eyes had told him, with no words, that G'Kar meant to keep his bargain, and accept the price he paid for it. He hadn't been able to stop himself from breathing the Narn's name, horror in his voice, and he'd been grateful he hadn't spoken loud enough for the court to hear him. Fortunately, he wasn't in the throne room by invitation, so it was easy to bow and leave.

Vir had scolded him afterward, asking how he could look at G'Kar's torment and feel nothing. How he could condemn the other man to that. Londo grimaced at the water in his hand. He remembered his reply. In many ways, the words he'd spoken to Vir had been the truth central to his entire relationship with G'Kar. _“_ _Of_ _course_ _I_ _care._ _I_ _wish_ _I_ _did_ _not._ _It_ _would_ _make_ _this_ _whole_ _thing_ _so_ _much_ _easier,_ _if_ _I_ _did_ _not_ _care._ _”_

But, that had been the bargain. For him to watch, as G'Kar endured. And, aside from distracting Cartagia, it had helped in one other matter. He'd needed Vir's help for the whole mad scheme, and the little man was both a pacifist and highly reluctant to involve himself. He hadn't wanted to face the concept of killing Cartagia. He'd wanted to find a better way. But then the Emperor had come out of the dungeon, snarling in frustration at G'kar's stubborn silence. His hands had been red with the Narn's blood, and Vir had nearly thrown up. The Emperor had treated them both to a long account of G'Kar's shortcomings as a plaything, his stubborn refusal to beg or scream. By the time Cartagia had walked away, commenting on how he might have to kill the Narn if he didn't yield, Vir's mind had been changed. And if Londo had wanted Cartagia dead for political reasons, he had no objection to Vir harboring personal ones.

Londo felt a grim laugh rising from the back of his throat. Of course, it hadn't been that easy. G'Kar was stubborn. Almost too stubborn for his own good. And the price...in the end, Londo had been forced to face him, to demand a price he was sure the Narn would never forgive him for.


	5. The Cost of Life/The Price of a Scream

**Cost** **of** **Life** **(G'Kar's** **POV)**

The memory came now unbidden, and unwanted. Though the memories of Cartagia's torture of him were mostly indistinct, there was one that stood out with terrible clarity. It woke him sometimes with nightmares, jerked him gasping from his sleep. He remembered how, on Narn Home-world, one angry individual had asked him. _“_ _What_ _have_ _you_ _endured,_ _G'Kar?_ _”_ He had remembered that one terrible night, and walked out of the room laughing, knowing that if he ever answered, he would break. Worse, he'd reveal his greatest humiliation and pain to the world.

He closed his eyes. He wanted to avoid the memory but...it was an important one, between him and Mollari. One of the defining moments of that whole terrible incident. He set his jaw, and let himself remember.

Of course, Cartagia had wanted screams of pain. Wanted him to beg for mercy. He'd never begged for anything in his life. Not mercy, not freedom, nothing. It was one of the reasons his people respected him. That strength. Cartagia had wanted to rip it away from him.

He'd set his jaw, enduring in silence through everything they'd done to him. He hadn't begged for water, or for food. He hadn't screamed when they bound him and tortured him. But he'd known, even before the first time he'd passed out, that this game of endurance had more dangerous consequences than any he'd ever played before. And the price for making the wrong choice was higher than he wanted to know.

Sitting in his cell, even before Mollari had come to confront him, he'd known he was pitting the fate of two worlds against his own stubborn pride. But he'd spent his life living by that pride, building on it, using it. It was the one thing above all else that he held onto and he'd known, or feared, that to let it go would break him. Destroy him utterly. He'd said it to Mollari, during their confrontation. _“_ _If_ _I_ _give_ _him_ _what_ _he_ _wants,_ _if_ _I_ _scream,_ _beg_ _for_ _mercy....I_ _will_ _no_ _longer_ _be_ _a_ _Narn._ _”_ He'd feared he would no longer be himself.

Mollari's response had been brutal, but accurate. _“_ _And_ _your_ _people?_ _If_ _you_ _die,_ _will_ _they_ _still_ _be_ _Narns?_ _No._ _They_ _will_ _still_ _be_ _prisoners._ _Slaves._ _And_ _then_ _dead_ _slaves._ _But_ _one_ _little_ _scream,_ _and_ _Cartagia_ _will_ _let_ _you_ _live._ _And_ _you_ _can_ _save_ _them._ _”_

G'Kar frowned, wondering. He'd said at the time, that Mollari had no idea what he was asking for. What price he was demanding. The Centauri had stood, looking at him, and a strange expression crossed his face. Anger, almost, but with no fire. As if his fury had been mixed with pity, or regret. He hadn't thought of it before, but now, he could see the other man's face in his mind. The way his jaw had clenched. And the soft spoken, terrible words, spoken with mixed anger and...well, if it hadn't been Mollari, he'd have called it compassion. _“_ _Yes._ _I_ _do._ _”_

A grim smile touched G'Kar's face. There was no way, now, to know if Londo had meant it. If he truly had understood then, what he asked. But...there was a part of him that believed the Centauri did know. Perhaps that had been why he'd refused to talk to him afterward. Because Londo had known. More likely, it had been because Londo had seen it. Witnessed that moment...

He'd been dragged out of his cell in the middle of the night, hauled into a small room and chained to a stone pillar. Cartagia had been there, with his silent guards. He'd had a bad feeling the moment they'd pulled him from his cell, but the look on Cartagia's face made it ten times worse. Malevolent, vindictive, and utterly satisfied. When they'd chained him to the pillar, he'd wondered why they didn't start immediately. Then the door had opened, and Mollari had been shown in with his silent shadow. And he'd known then that it was going to be worse than he'd thought. Cartagia had intended to break him or kill him,and Londo was to witness it.

G'Kar's back ached with the memory. The electro-whip. Guaranteed to deliver an increasing amount of pain with each blow, until the victim died. 40 strokes. That was what Cartagia had said. That in 40 strokes, even he'd die. And he'd known the monster was probably right. 40 strokes.

Cartagia had begun the count, and as each lash had slammed across him, he'd known he was in trouble. And then...his eyes met Londo's across that dark cell. Vir, the little assistant, had been turned away, shaking like he was about to throw up, but not Londo. Mollari had watched, straight-backed, his eyes never turning away. And as their gazes had met, he'd seen the Centauri mouth one word. Silent, but unmistakable. _Scream_. More than once, but always the same word. _Scream._

He'd thought at the time that Mollari merely wanted him to live so they could complete their mad scheme. That Londo had simply wanted to avoid losing his pawn. He'd held the Centauri's gaze, even as the electro-whip slashed across his back and made him convulse in agony. Held it even as pain beyond anything he'd ever imagined ripped through him. And finally, as the count hit 35, he'd found an answer he hoped he would be able to live with.

To scream in pain, to get release from pain, that would have broken him. Destroyed him. But to scream for the sake of his people was different. To force himself to live to save his world was different. He'd thought, as much as he could think, that he'd be able to handle that. His mind had rationalized it quickly as the count hit 37. That scream was not for his sake, but his world. The same way he'd let one of his own people put a knife in his back, the same reason he hadn't killed Mollari on board Babylon 5, that was the reason he'd come to. Just one more sacrifice.

He'd felt the 39th stroke fall and known he had no time left. If he wanted to save his people, it had to be then. And as Cartagia's mouth had opened, to order the final fatal strike, he'd let go. He'd screamed his pain, his fury, his humiliation and his determination into the darkness of the room. It had taken everything he had and more, the final blow to body and soul. He'd been dimly aware of falling, of seeing Mollari's face as the Centauri closed his eyes, and then darkness had taken him once more. He'd been grateful for that, knowing he didn't want to face the man who'd witnessed it. He hadn't wanted to know what Londo thought of him for that.

G'Kar grimaced into the dim light of his room. Just remembering made his back ache. If he thought about it, he could feel the scars across his shoulders and crossing his spine. Scars made by the whip, where it had cut so deep there was no way to heal it. He'd spoken once to Dr. Franklin about it, trusting the human to not judge him and to ask no questions he wouldn't answer. The doctor had given him a good check-up, in privacy, and they'd spoken of what could be done for him. That was when they'd started taking steps to get him his new eye, and the doctor had done what he could for the other wounds. They'd been mostly healed, however crudely, but he had been able to take care of some of the underlying damage. Enough that, phantom aches aside, his back no longer screamed at him with every move he made. He carried the scars, but the agony he'd feared would haunt him for the rest of his days had been reduced, faded to a dull ache in a few joints. A little stiffness, and a few scars, which he could live with.

He closed his eyes, and his mind drifted back to that night. He wanted to push the memory away, but Mollari's near death had brought it to the surface, and a feeling that there was something he'd missed, that night. He'd wanted Mollari to defend him, to try and stop it. He'd wanted Mollari to, just once, have the spine to speak out. The fact that he hadn't done so had shaken him with fury. But now, having relived the memory to save the man, having heard his apology, he looked back once more. For a moment, he relived the terrible feel of the whip striking his shoulders, then it dimmed, and he looked past it, to Mollari's face.

The man had watched his entire ordeal without turning away. He had stood there, and kept his gaze on him, watching as he'd promised he would do. In the clarity of memory, G'Kar looked into his old enemy's face. Now that he remembered it, there'd been no contempt in his gaze. No hatred, no satisfaction, no joy. Only solemnity, and silence, and regret. The thought surprised him, but he knew it was true. He'd seen regret that night in Londo's face. And his eyes had been dark, once again bearing that strange expression that G'Kar would have called compassion in anyone else. Almost concern. He remembered Mollari mouthing the words at him. _Scream._ Remembered, and wondered if he'd imagined or truly seen the flicker of pain on the mans face every time he said it. There was no way to be certain now, but he had a feeling he knew the answer. For the first time, he wondered if that expression had, in some way, given him the strength to do what he'd had to. If knowing Londo was there, watching him, and honoring their bargain had given him that final burst of strength.

G'kar snorted, opening his eyes and taking a sip of his drink. The thought was so foolish as to be almost ludicrous. After all, how could having an enemy, even one who was a temporary ally, witness your greatest humiliation be helpful? Perhaps this whole memory and connection had shaken him more than he'd first thought.

And yet, afterward, Londo had come to see him. Of course, he'd been relaying the plans for their eventual attack on Cartagia, explaining how he wanted to do things. How he'd planned to have Cartagia go to Narn, so that if they succeeded, he'd be able to release G'Kar with relative ease, and get the Centauri off Narn Homeworld. But though they'd both known what had happened, the other man had never referred to the incident. He hadn't asked about it. Hadn't made any snide remarks. Not even a smart remark like, “well, I see you managed to survive after all...” which he'd almost expected. He hadn't even asked if G'Kar was all right. In a way, it had annoyed him, but still, he'd been grateful. Even though a part of him had been irritated that Mollari hadn't asked after his condition, he'd also known that Londo was ignoring it out of a strange sort of deference to his damaged dignity. He treated the whole thing like it never happened, and in a strange way, even though it annoyed him, G'Kar felt grateful. But he'd still wanted Mollari to apologize. For that, and for what had happened after.

**The** **Price** **of** **a** **Scream** **(Londo's** **POV)**

He'd had to confront G'Kar, after that encounter with Cartagia in the garden. Tough as the Narn was, he'd known that even G'Kar couldn't survive this brutality. Not on starvation rations, dehydrated, and battered as he was. But he'd also known that G'Kar was stubborn, prideful, and inclined to fight to the last breath. He'd defy Cartagia even as he died, because it was the way he was. And that, he'd known, was a situation neither of them could afford.

He'd waited for news that the Narn had been sent back to his cell, then gone to face him. It had been a shock, seeing the proud figure hunched against the wall, his face tight with pain, and the way he'd flinched every time he moved, gasping slightly. It had been a terrible sight, but it had also served to harden his resolve. Had G'Kar been strong enough to put up a pretense with him, he might have avoided it, but that agonized figure had been enough to steel him for the confrontation.

Londo winced into the darkness of his sickroom. The conversation with G'Kar had been brutal. He'd felt, more than once since then, that he had tormented the Narn, perhaps worse than Cartagia. He'd known he was trying to push G'Kar to the breaking point, to break the pride that had him teetering on the brink of death and risking both their worlds. He'd been harsh in his words, and almost cruel in his attitude.

He'd known what G'Kar meant when he said he'd no longer be a Narn if he screamed. He knew of the iron pride and self reliance that had driven the man since their first meeting, and probably before. Which was why he hadn't insisted G'Kar yield for his own sake. That would never happen. Instead, he'd appealed to their bargain, reminding G'Kar harshly of the price for his defiance. He'd heard rumors of G'Kar's beginnings as a house slave, and he'd played on them, using the term 'slave' and painting a picture of the Narn race as nothing better than abused playthings, all the pride stamped out of them. He'd seen the realization, the knowledge of the truth, and had known there was nothing more he could offer the man. G'Kar had been caught between the two things that were most important to him, and only he'd been able to find his way out.

He remembered, still, G'Kar's words. _“_ _You...don't_ _know...what_ _you're_ _asking._ _”_

But he had known. He had his own pride, a battered thing though it was. And he loved his people, though he sometimes did a poor job of showing it. There were things he'd have died before accepting, and he'd understood the Narn very well indeed, when G'Kar said that. Well enough to feel compassion, and sorrow for the man he'd forced to this position. He hadn't told G'Kar those feelings, only told him he understood, and left. A small part of him had hoped that G'Kar would be angry, and that it would help.

Londo grimaced again. He'd hoped G'Kar would have some time to recover, to think things over. After all, the man had been exhausted, and in pain. It would have been better if he'd had time to recover. But...Cartagia was impatient.

He remembered being summoned in the dead of night, taken to a small room practically in the basement of the Palace. Cartagia had been there, seated in a throne with a terrible smile on his face. Londo still remembered the chill that had run up his spine when Cartagia had spoken to him. _“_ _Welcome._ _This_ _is_ _my_ _private_ _room._ _This_ _is_ _where_ _I_ _come_ _to_ _think,_ _to_ _plan,_ _and_ _to_ _play._ _Very_ _few_ _who_ _come_ _in_ _here_ _ever_ _leave_ _here_ _alive._ _You_ _should_ _feel_ _honored._ _”_ The words had horrified him, but even that fear had faded when more lights came up, revealing G'Kar chained to a pillar, his jaw tight.

He'd known then that Cartagia was going to do something terrible to the Narn, and there was no avoiding seeing it this time. But his stomach had turned when he'd heard the sentence. The electro-whip. 40 lashes of increasing pain, until G'Kar either screamed or died of shock. He'd seen G'Kar stiffen, and his hands clenched on the chain, and known that this was a battle of wills they couldn't afford not to lose. And he'd known, by the dark look in G'Kar's eyes, that he was still trapped.

The count had begun. The first lash made the Narn wince, the second, flinch, but he'd seen the growing pain. By the time the count was half done, he'd seen G'kar shaking in agony, convulsing with each lash.  


He'd wanted to do as Vir did. To hide his eyes and turn away from the sight of his old enemy's suffering. He'd wanted to turn around and throw up. He'd wanted, in some small part of his mind, to jump forward an shout an order to cease, suicidal though it was. But stopping Cartagia was suicide, and for the rest...his promise had lingered there, between them. To watch, as G'Kar endured. And so he'd watched, sick at heart, as the lash fell against the Narn's shoulders. Watched until the tortured figure met his gaze, and spoken one word silently into the darkness. _Scream._

It had been a plea, whether he meant it to be or not. He'd tried, long after, to pretend it was simply because he needed G'kar alive for his plan to work. But it wasn't true. It had never been true. He hadn't wanted to see this, had wanted G'Kar's suffering to end, had wanted the man to live. As much as he'd once hated G'Kar, and as much as he feared him, he hadn't wanted him to die like that. For all their differences, he'd felt pity, and compassion for the man.

He'd been unsure, the first time, if G'Kar had seen his message, understood him. But their gazes locked a second time, and he'd tried again, and seen the darkness in the Narn's eyes. Fury. Pain. Torment that was completely in the mind, and completely different from the agony the whip inflicted. And he'd known that G'kar understood his message quite well.

The count had climbed into the 30's. G'Kar had been convulsing, shaking in agony, but each time he relaxed, their eyes had met. And by the third time, he'd been aware he was begging the Narn to scream, and hadn't cared. Anything to end this, to save the mans life.

What had gone through G'Kar's mind, he never knew. All he'd known was that as the count neared it's end, something had changed in the red gaze. He'd seen it, through the pain, for one instant, when something broke in the Narn's mind. Seconds later, the count had hit 39. He'd braced himself, waiting for G'kar to die, helpless to prevent it...and then...

G'Kar had broken at last. Londo shivered. When he thought about it, that scream still echoed in his nightmares. G'Kar's cry, more terrible than anything he had ever heard before. Anger, pain, determination...whatever had driven him to finally snap had been powerful, and the scream had been brutal. Of course, Cartagia had loved it. He hadn't. He'd stood, watching as the Narn screamed, finally, then collapsed to the floor like a broken puppet, mercifully unconscious. Even now, he could remember the relief that had filled him. Relief that G'Kar had lived. Relief that, for a little while, he might be left alone. Relief that they could finish their task.

He'd gone to G'Kar afterward, a couple days later. He'd wanted to say something to him, but saying something like 'well, I'm glad you decided to live.' would have been tacky, insulting. He'd had no strength to apologize, nor any idea what it was he would have apologized for. So he'd remained silent, said nothing of that night. G'kar hadn't said anything either. Neither of them had been willing to acknowledge that he'd witnessed G'Kar's humiliation or, conversely, his strength. But he knew that was why the Narn had avoided him once they'd both returned to Babylon 5.

A grim smile touched Londo's face. All that time, they'd not acknowledged that night. But...they'd both known it was important. He remembered the dreams he'd had approaching death. G'kar, standing before him. _“_ _You_ _should_ _have_ _spoken._ _It_ _doesn't_ _matter_ _if_ _it_ _would_ _have_ _stopped._ _It_ _doesn't_ _matter_ _if_ _they'd_ _listened._ _You_ _were_ _a_ _witness,_ _and_ _you_ _had_ _an_ _obligation_ _to_ _speak._ _”_ And later... _“_ _One_ _little_ _word._ _That's_ _all._ _”_

Londo laughed at the irony of the situation. Months ago, he had forced G'Kar to do the one thing the Narn could not bear. Now, it appeared that G'Kar had returned the favor. Had taken him in hand, at the brink of death, and forced him to face his own unbending pride. Demanded the apology he hadn't known how to give. He remembered his words in the dream. _“_ _You_ _do_ _not_ _understand._ _I_ _have_ _never_ _apologized_ _for_ _anything_ _in_ _my_ _life._ _”_ Knowing, even as he spoke, that the Narn did understand. And G'kar had, and had thrown it in his face, forced him to choose between pride and life, between the past and a chance to change things.

Another chuckle slipped past his throat. “It seems we have come a full circle, eh, G'Kar?” he spoke the words into the darkness. But even as they died away, he wondered if the Narn could hear him. If he would hear the words spoken, through that odd link they shared. Wondered if the Narn would care. After all, though that night had been by far the worst, it hadn't been the last of the other's suffering. Humor faded under the memory.


	6. Darkness Falling/Blind-sided

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> G'Kar loses an eye...

**Darkness** **Falling** **(G'Kar's** **POV)**

His eye ached. G'Kar reached up, then stopped and lowered his hand back to his side. He had perfect vision on his left side, night vision as well. In many ways, his vision on the left side was far superior to his right. But still...it didn't change his feelings.

He looked into the mirror and saw one eye that was a proper red, and one that was the blue of a human now. He could get contacts for it, and of course, putting them in represented no problem, since it was a cybernetic eye. He was grateful to Franklin for having gone to the trouble of getting him the eye. He knew the man had pulled in a lot of favors, and a fair amount of expense, to take care of him. He was equally grateful for the care Franklin had taken in implanting it, with a minimum of pain. But still, that blue color reminded him it was no longer _his_ eye. And every time he saw it in the mirror, he was reminded of what had been done. He closed his eyes, both of them, remembering.

After the incident with the whip, he'd been left alone, more or less. Cartagia had gotten what he wanted, and he wasn't worth the effort of continuing with. Not that he'd gotten any more food, or any medical treatment. And every now and then, Cartagia or some of the other nobles had come down to have a bit of sport with him, but beyond a few blows and crude mockery, he hadn't been disturbed. They'd known of his humiliation, and thought him broken. It had burned, a cold terrible anger in his gut, but it was also exactly what they needed.

It was Londo who'd explained why. Explained that the Vorlons were coming, intent on wiping out the Shadows. He'd also explained, then, that Cartagia intended to make his execution as public and humiliating as possible. And that he'd convinced Cartagia that the best way to do that would be to take G'Kar to Narn Home-world, there to be publicly put to death as a symbol of Cartagia's strength. He was to be the symbol that wiped out the last of the Narn resistance to Centauri rule.

Even knowing Mollari had other plans, that if things went well he'd be the instrument of his people's salvation, hadn't stopped his fury. And the awareness of what Cartagia had done, and what he'd seen, that was enough to drive him nearly mad. He'd been almost grateful for his weakness, that he couldn't attack Cartagia. But then....

A grimace touched his face and he clenched his fist tight to stop himself from reaching up to touch his eye. The day before they'd left Centauri Prime, Cartagia had come to his cell. Had come to gloat, and tell him in vivid detail how he'd be paraded through the streets in stocks, dragged before the court, tried, and sentenced. And how he would end his life on the floor of the Centuari courtroom, held down while the guards sliced him open and his people watched. How his entire world would get to see him scream his life away. He'd listened with white hot fury burning in his veins, trying to keep Cartagia from seeing his anger. But...

Cartagia was twisted and evil, but not unobservant. He'd seen. Londo had entered, asking after something, he hadn't cared what. He no longer even remembered. All he remembered was the conversation between the two men. _“_ _I_ _don't_ _think_ _I_ _like_ _the_ _way_ _he_ _looks_ _at_ _me._ _No,_ _I_ _really_ _don't_ _care_ _for_ _the_ _look_ _in_ _his_ _eyes._ _So_ _then,_ _what_ _should_ _I_ _do_ _about_ _it?_ _Would_ _you...care_ _to_ _make_ _a_ _suggestion?_ _”_

He'd hoped, for one brief instant, that Mollari would deflect the man. That he'd say something to turn Cartagia's mind from him. But Londo had only shaken his head, his face ashen. _“_ _I'm_ _sure_ _whatever_ _Your_ _Majesty_ _decides_ _will_ _be_ _appropriate._ _”_

His fist clenched tighter, remembering. Cartagia had stared at him for a moment, then ordered one of his eyes ripped out, as if it were as simple as ordering grapes for dinner. Random choice, and then he'd walked away, leaving G'Kar and the guards. Guards who pinned him, forced his head back and his eye open, and then....

G'Kar shivered, opening his eyes and forcing away the memory of the searing pain, his blood running down his face and the sudden, wrenching darkness that had followed. He'd passed out and woken light-headed, agony on the left side of his face, and his vision dark on that side. He hadn't even been able to stand up or see straight for several hours. He'd managed, finally, to rip strips from his shirt, to bind over his eye and stop the bleeding. It had been more than one day before he'd regained any stability, in his mind or his body. Not until they'd chained him in a cell on Narn. And even then, he'd been a little off, delirious from pain and untended wounds. He grimaced, remembering the odd thoughts that had chased themselves through his mind when Mollari had come to see him.

Mollari hadn't come until after they'd arrived on Narn. From the words he spoke, he'd been finishing the plans. Plans to topple Cartagia.

G'kar frowned, relaxing just a little. He knew Mollari had only come to tell him what to do, what the plan was. But still...he remembered, through the haze of pain and shock, the man's reaction.

He'd come in, quietly as he always did, but G'Kar remembered the way Mollari had stopped. Then the Centauri had shut the door. A moment later, he'd knelt, actually knelt, by G'Kar's side, his voice a soft breath of horror. _“_ _G'Kar....Cartagia?_ _”_

He'd confirmed it, and he knew he'd said something else as well, but the words were lost in the blur. The only thing he really remembered was Mollari, leaning in, his voice a mere whisper as he breathed instructions. _“_ _Listen._ _Tomorrow,_ _you_ _will_ _be_ _taken._ _You_ _will_ _be_ _paraded_ _through_ _the_ _streets,_ _to_ _crush_ _your_ _people's_ _hope._ _”_ There was a pause. _“_ _Your_ _chains_ _tomorrow_ _will_ _be_ _weakened._ _The_ _guards_ _have_ _been_ _bribed._ _However,_ _the_ _Emperor's_ _personal_ _guards_ _cannot_ _be_ _bribed._ _You_ _will_ _deal_ _with_ _them._ _You_ _must_ _create_ _a_ _distraction._ _But...do_ _not_ _touch_ _Cartagia,_ _or_ _your_ _world_ _will_ _suffer._ _Create_ _a_ _diversion,_ _and_ _leave_ _him_ _to_ _us._ _Understand?_ _”_

A simple enough plan, and feasible. More to the point, it had given him direction, focus, for the first time since his eye had been taken. It had been enough to jolt his mind back to some semblance of sanity. He'd nodded once and Mollari had left him. That night he'd sat waiting for the dawn, and for the first time, the darkness hadn't seemed impenetrable. He'd known, one way or another, that the end would come the next day. Whether it would bring darkness or light, he hadn't known, but he'd known it was coming. That night, he'd let his eye become another source of strength, another fuel for the fire he burned within his soul, to stop Cartagia.

**Blind-sided** **(Londo's** **POV)**

Londo shifted. He didn't like remembering but...he supposed he'd begun something and it had to be finished. Like the battle to live only a night ago, he had to see it through. He let his mind go over the next series of events.

Shortly after the whipping, Cartagia had announced his decision to take G'Kar to the Narn Home-world to execute him. To show off his power and glory. Londo had breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that his careful suggestions, his hints, had obtained the desired results. Even more grateful that the threat of the Vorlons and Cartagia's own insanity had convinced the man to come with him. Cautious contacts had ensured he'd have allies when they arrived. He and Vir had made their preparations.

He'd gone once to G'kar on the pretext that G'Kar was, technically, his prisoner. A gift from the Emperor until he was executed for his glory. He'd been surprised to find Cartagia already there, examining the Narn. He'd been concerned when the Emperor had stated he didn't like G'Kar's expression. But, he'd also known that killing the Narn publicly meant something, so G'kar would likely survive. He hadn't wanted to know, and thought that the result would be another beating, and that would be that.

Londo's hand clenched into a fist, and his jaw tightened. He should have known. Known Cartagia was vindictive, cruel. Known that he was in a vicious mood. Should have guessed. And yes, as G'Kar had told him so sharply in his dreams, he should have spoken, distracted the mad Emperor. Suggested a punishment that he knew would be bearable. But caught in his own plans, he hadn't. He'd simply made a polite statement about how Cartagia knew best, then gone about his business of preparing to go to Narn, where he could assassinate the Emperor and save two worlds.

He'd taken a few hours after their arrival to meet his fellow conspirators. There were other nobles in the court aware of Cartagia's insanity, and willing to help. Vir had gotten him the weapon that would end the Emperor's life and leave no sign. A powerful nerve paralyzer that would stop his hearts. And then, plans in place, he'd gone to inform G'Kar.

He'd been shocked, to see G'kar sitting on the floor. But then he'd seen the bloody bandage wrapped around the Narn's face, covering his eye. And he'd known, instinctively, what it meant. Known that the eye was gone, that G'kar had become, truly, the man he remembered from his dream. Shock had made him unable to breathe, unable to do more than fall to his knees, whispering both G'Kar's name and the Emperor's, in a dazed, helpless question.

G'Kar had understood. He still remembered the hoarse voice, speaking to him. _“_ _My_ _eye...displeased_ _him._ _”_ The Narn had smiled at him, coldly, an eerie smile that seemed more than a little mad. _“_ _I_ _see_ _some_ _things_ _so_ _much_ _more_ _clearly_ _now._ _”_

He'd been afraid to ask, but also afraid not to. And so, he had asked. And G'Kar had nodded to him. _“_ _An_ _empty_ _eye_ _can_ _see_ _an_ _empty_ _heart,_ _Mollari._ _Your_ _heart_ _is_ _empty._ _”_

There had been no reply he could make to that. He felt it was true. Had ever since the woman he'd loved had been killed by Lord Refa. He'd hated himself, and only duty to his world saw him bother to keep going. There had been nothing he could say to the Narn, and once again, he hadn't been able to bring himself to apologize. So he'd done the best he could do. He'd leaned down, given the Narn the directions that would, with luck, allow him to live and free his world. As he'd backed away, he'd seen the coherence, the sanity taking over G'Kar's gaze, and known it would be all right after all. There was fury there, that he could not take Cartagia himself, but he knew G'Kar understood the situation as well as he did. And even with that, there had been grim satisfaction in the Narn's eye, with the knowledge that he could finally break free.

Londo sighed. He'd carried that image of defiant pride through to the following day. It had been, in many ways, the only thing that kept him going, that knowledge. The awareness of G'Kar, waiting, his eye sparkling with vengeful light. He'd sat through the night, unable to sleep, waiting for the dawn. Waiting to see if the next day would bring the light of freedom and hope to both their worlds, or destroy it forever.


	7. All or Nothing/Commitment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the Narn home-world.

**All** **or** **Nothing** **(G'Kar's** **POV)**

G'Kar felt himself relax, slowly. He remembered the next day very well. The dawn had found him sitting in his cell, tense with anticipation. He'd known instinctively when the sun rose, though his cell had no windows.

Cartagia's guards had come for him then. It had worried him, briefly, when they'd checked the chains on his stocks and switched them out. He'd wondered if somehow Mollari had been caught. But then the concern had faded away. It didn't matter. Not anymore. Whatever happened, he would fulfill the final part of his bargain with the Centauri, and one way or another, this ordeal would end. He'd known he would give everything he had, until his heart burst if needed.

They'd clapped him in the stocks, locked the thick chains around his wrists, and escorted him out of the cell. Outside, his people had been lined up three and four deep, watching as he was shoved down the long narrow path, toward the make-shift throne room. And every face had showed fear, concern, sorrow.

The sight had broken his heart, a worse pain than anything Cartagia could ever do to him. Seeing the sad eyes watching him had been painful. So much so that he'd taken a chance, and pretended to trip near the side of the path, falling to his knees as if his shackles had dragged him down. Four or five of his people had rushed forward to lift him up, their hands gentle, and he'd taken time to whisper words to them. Words of hope. Words of encouragement. Reminders of the strong, proud people they were. He hadn't had more than a minute before Cartagia's guards had seized him and shoved him down the path, but it had been enough. Enough time to see resolve form in their eyes. Enough time to see a flicker of hope in their drawn faces.

Then they'd arrived at the throne room. Cartagia was there, seated in his chair, and various Narn officials, most of whom he knew. Most of them had looked frightened as well, and he hadn't found it in his heart to blame them. If he hadn't already resolved himself to win their freedom or die trying, he'd have been more than a little shaken himself.

Cartagia had gone on to announce that he was charged with murder, sedition, treason, violence, instigating rebellion and just about every other crime the Centauri could think of. The man had rattled off four or five, waved the rest away, then announced the sentence. Death by vivesection. Then, almost as an afterthought, he'd asked how he would plead.

A grim smile touched G'Kar's face. Of course, he could have answered, but there was nothing much to say. If bound to speak honestly, he'd have admitted to every single crime Cartagia charged him with. He had killed Centauri, he had committed violent crimes against them. He had instigated rebellions, as often as he could. He wouldn't have called his actions treason, exactly, considering he didn't acknowledge the Centauri right to set a single foot on Narn Home-world, but he'd doubted that anyone in Cartagia's court would see it the same way. So he held his peace.

Cartagia had asked again, and he'd reached up, wrapping his hand around the left hand chain. Then his right hand around the right hand chain. For a moment, he felt uncertain. The chains felt solid, hard. But he'd seen his people's frightened faces and that was enough to spur him to action. He'd set his shoulders and pulled, straining every muscle in his tortured back, pouring every thought of hate into it. He'd reached inside himself, to the fire of pain and rage he'd been storing since his capture, and let it rip through him, centering on the chains. Pulling with everything in him. For a moment, they'd been unyielding. He'd heard Cartagia say the chains were solid corillium, and he hadn't cared. And then, with a grinding wrench that seemed to explode through him and through the throne room, the links had shattered.

Grim satisfaction flowed through him at the memory. Cartagia had been shocked. Everyone had. Only Mollari and his assistant had looked ready. Even his own people had been standing with their mouths open. It was the best distraction he could have hoped for and he'd put it to good use, moving forward to hit the nearest guard in the jaw with the stock and sending him flying. By the time he'd taken a step toward the second guard, the other Narns were moving. Chaos had erupted, a full out fight. He'd thrown the heavy bar from his shoulders and leaped into the fray, reveling in the feeling of payback for the torment he'd endured. The first time he'd looked up Cartagia had still been sitting, staring like an idiot. So he'd punched a few more guards, and when he looked back, the Emperor of Centauri was gone. Only a few minutes later, there had been a shout of alarm, of people crying Cartagia's name. He'd caught, very dimly, the sound of Londo's voice, shouting something indistinct.

The guards, those not rushing to the Emperor's aid, had surrounded them. This time, they'd had guns instead of staffs and G'Kar had held his people back, knowing that now was not the time. He'd been amused, watching them group around him, like mothers protecting a pouchling. He'd stayed where he was, quiet and waiting. Scanning the room and deciding which guard he'd attack to open the way if Mollari had gone back on his promise. Of course, he'd known then that he'd probably die, but he'd been slated to die anyway, and being shot to death was far cleaner than what they'd planned for him. All he'd needed was for one of his followers to get out and announce Cartagia was dead, and the Centauri were in disarray. He'd picked the sturdiest of the group around him, and informed him quietly of what he knew. That the Shadows held Centauri Prime, and the Vorlons were coming to wipe it out. It was more fuel for the fire, and he'd known every bit would help if they had to fight free.

It hadn't been needed. After only a few hours, Londo had come in, followed by several other Centauri nobles, Vir, and the guards. He'd waved irritably at the guards around the Narn contingent, then looked G'kar in the eye and announced, rather dryly, that the Centauri were leaving. Their logic was that the Narns were barbarians, not worth dying for, or with. And that two of their Emperors had died while trying to deal with the Narns. He'd stated that G'Kar's people were a waste of Centauri resources that would be better spent elsewhere. He'd then announced, to the room in general, that the Centauri were leaving Narn Home-world. Packing up and moving out, effective immediately. And, in his capacity of newly appointed Prime Minister, his first order was to get the Narns still in the Centauri Palace out of it, so he could evacuate in peace.

The guards had been ready to escort them out at gunpoint, but he had been through quite enough. He'd drawn himself up as well as he could and announced they'd find their own way out. And that any Centauri they found in the Palace two mornings later would be fair game. Londo had nodded, and he'd turned and walked away, hoping that no one would be able to tell his vision was going gray at the edges, and grateful that the press of Narns walking as his honor guard kept him from crashing into things. Finally, they'd left the Palace a respectable distance behind, and he'd been able to collapse into his people's arms. He had no idea who had taken him up or cared for him. All he remembered was the fading thought that had followed him into the darkness. He'd succeeded. He'd given it everything he had, and won back his world for his people.

In the darkness, G'kar smiled. He had succeeded, and gained his freedom as well. And not just from the Centauri, but from the chains of hate and destructive behavior he'd known before. The man he'd once been, the one who was willing to do anything for power and would have stooped to any level to bring a Centuari down....that man had faded. Kosh had warned him...had told him he had to choose. And despite the price, he knew the choice had been worthwhile. He had fewer regrets now. He also had more relationships, and truer ones. Friendships like the ones he'd built with Delenn, Sheridan, and Garibaldi. And while there was still much to do to rebuild his home-world and truly rescue his people from the darkness, he felt he'd made a good start. He also felt it would be possible, with the help of Sheridan and the others.

The smile faded. There was still one chain that bound him to the past. Mollari. He'd considered, on his return to Babylon 5, simply breaking the connection between him. He'd even said it to the man: _“_ _Let_ _us_ _pray_ _we_ _never_ _meet_ _again._ _”_ And yet....

The bond still existed. He'd thought, and hoped, that the destiny between them was broken that day on Narn Home-world, but it wasn't the case. The connection still stretched between them, though he still didn't know why. But even so, he had to admit it wasn't what it had once been. Hate had been replaced by...he wasn't sure what. Pity? Comradeship? Simple understanding? He didn't dare think a word like friendship, or compassion. And what Mollari thought of it, he had no idea. Well, he hoped the Centauri felt some gratitude, since it had saved his life. But still...

G'Kar stood, stretching and taking a few frustrated steps across his quarters. A slow growl of frustration threatened to escape him. He and Mollari had come to a truce, of sorts. What else could matter? And yet, now that the question had been raised, he was curious, wondering what the Centauri Ambassador thought of the developments between them. But it was the middle of the night. There was no reason for him to go to the infirmary. And Mollari was probably asleep. Even if he wasn't, what in the universe was he supposed to say?

His eye touched the half-full bottle of wine on his table, and he stopped, considering it. He knew full well Mollari wasn't supposed to have wine. But then...it was the middle of the night. A slow smile curved one corner of his mouth. He could be counted on to tease Mollari, to jibe at him for the words he'd spoken. And a bottle of wine would suit the occasion nicely. It was almost a tradition between them to harass each other. Dr. Franklin would be furious with him, of course...but then, Dr. Franklin was no doubt asleep, and what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

G'Kar let his smile widen. He reached over, corked the bottle and swung his jacket over his shoulders. He snatched the bottle from the table, along with two glasses, and stalked out the door, headed for the infirmary.

**Commitment** **(Londo** **POV)**

Londo sighed, looking at the darkness. Despite the difference in scenery, this whole chain of memory reminded him of the night he'd sat up, waiting in the darkened palace on Narn Home-world for the dawn. He'd watched the light come slowly into the Palace, staining the stone reddish in the sunrise. Knowing the stone would, one way or another, be stained a different sort of red and wondering if he'd end the day as Prime Minister, or meeting his Maker and trying to explain how he had screwed up so incredibly badly. And yet, as much as some part of him had wanted to run away and forget the whole plan, he'd known it was impossible. That would only result in the destruction of his people. He'd sighed into the sunrise, knowing then that he was committed to the course he had chosen. His last thought, as he'd turned to get ready, was a brief hope that G'Kar wasn't having the same second thoughts he was.

He'd gotten dressed with a heavy heart, then slowly slipped the fatal weapon with it's nerve paralyzer into his jacket. One look at Vir in the hallway had told him his assistant had been thinking much the same thing he was, and had come to a similar conclusion. They'd looked at each other for a moment, then gone to join Cartagia in the throne room, to await G'Kar.

He'd been terrified, watching the Narn stagger into the room. G'Kar had looked...weak, unwell. He'd been staggering slightly, and the gauntness that he had tried so hard to ignore was painfully evident. His remaining eye had been fever bright, intense with anger and hatred, but he'd feared that anger would no longer be enough to save the other man.

His fear had only increased when Cartagia had motioned him closer and whispered about having G'Kar's chains replaced. The Emperor had commented about how weak the other chains had looked, and he'd felt his gut freeze. Fear had crashed through him, wondering if Cartagia was baiting him, and already knew his plans. Wondering if he'd been betrayed by one of his compatriots, or if the Emperor had simply noticed his strange behavior. He'd tried not to act too abnormally, but then, one could never be sure what the eyes of madness or paranoia would see, and Cartagia was both. But the Emperor had motioned him back to his place, and he'd gone, swallowing back the sour taste in his mouth and praying that, just once, the Great Maker would grant him a miracle.

Londo laughed into the darkness. No doubt that had cost him all the favors he had ever earned from Heaven in this lifetime or the past three. And yet...he'd gotten his miracle.

He'd barely listened to Cartagia's flowery speech about his mercy, or his grace, or his power. It had all been a bunch of nonsense anyway. He'd stayed focused on watching G'Kar, as Cartagia sentenced him with everything under the sun, announced he was to die by vivesection, and then asked if he was going to plead guilty or not guilty.

A grim smile touched Londo's mouth once more. Of course G'Kar was guilty, technically. But everything that Cartagia had called a crime was something G'Kar's own people would have given him a medal for. He'd wanted to laugh at the situation, but he had no heart for it. Instead, he'd remained focused on the Narn, waiting for G'Kar's response.

G'Kar hadn't given a verbal response. Instead, he'd wrapped his bruised and battered hands around the chains, as close to the wrist manacles as he could. And as Cartagia had querulously called a third time for his plea, the Narn had set his shoulders and pulled.

Londo still remembered that moment. It had felt like an eternity, as he watched G'Kar strain against his chains. He'd heard Cartagia's comment, and his head screamed that the Emperor was right, that there'd been an error, and that G'Kar was going to fail. But his hearts were still praying, pleading with the Maker to give him a chance, to intervene. Then he'd heard the slight screech of over-strained metal, seen the slight give. There'd been one more heart-stopping moment, and then the chains had snapped, just above the bloodied fingers, and the Narn was free.

Grim humor touched him, remembering in the darkness. Everyone in the throne room had been staring at G'Kar, as if a demon had walked into the room. But he'd wasted no time, stepping forward to slam his broken stocks into a guard's jaw. The crack of the man's face breaking had echoed through the room. He had to give G'Kar credit. He'd neither attacked Cartagia, nor incited his people, who joined him cheerfully, to do so. Instead, he'd concentrated on the guards. Londo still found himself wondering which of those guards G'Kar had chosen at random, and which he'd had a specific vendetta against. Almost certainly, the one who had removed his eye was in that group...and the ones who had tortured him. But it had been a perfect distraction, better than he could have wished for if he'd planned it. He'd taken it without more than a second of hesitation, touching Cartagia's arm and urging him out of the throne room. Away from his occupied guards, and away from the courtiers, half of whom were engaged in seeing that the other half didn't follow Londo and the Emperor, so he could get on with the business of assassinating the man.

Londo reached up and rubbed his throat thoughtfully. He'd made a major mistake then, he had to admit. He'd forgotten just how irrational the Emperor was. They'd both been agitated, Cartagia with shock at what had happened, himself with fear of what he was about to do. And in his concern and fear, he'd spoken more sharply than he meant, actually dared to chastise the Emperor and tell him to be quiet. Cartagia had turned on him, trying to choke the life out of him, railing incoherently about his destiny, and how Londo could burn with Centauri Prime for his insolence. For a few moments, he'd been terrified he really was about to die, strangled by an insane Emperor instead of an angry Narn. But then a second miracle had intervened. Vir. His meek little assistant, the universe's most unbelievable pacifist, had come to his rescue. And, whether it had been by accident or design, he'd taken Cartagia's life. Assassinated the Emperor to save Londo. Seconds later, Londo was holding the Emperor's limp body in his arms, listening to his breathing stop.

He would have liked to simply drop the body on the floor like garbage. Would have liked to run away, sure his guilt was stamped on his face. But he'd also known how important it was not to do either of those things. So instead, he'd pulled Cartagia's body closer and shouted for the guards, for the court. The minute someone had appeared, he'd explained that the Emperor had collapsed, that he thought something was wrong with his hearts. Which was true, technically. He was having a heart attack, of sorts. Then he'd waited for more guards and courtiers to come, gone through the whole farce of trying to save the Emperor. Within fifteen minutes of G'Kar's breaking free, Cartagia was declared dead. Within a few hours more, he and his compatriots had seen to it that he was named Prime Minister, given authority to give whatever orders needed to be given. In fact, with the Emperor dead and the new emperor or regent not yet declared, Londo had been temporarily the most powerful man of his race.

He'd almost wanted to refuse. Being Prime Minister put him one step from the Imperial throne, and it was as the Emperor he was destined to die. True, it was years away, but the thought still sent cold chills down his spine. But even with those fears, he hadn't refused the position offered him. He'd needed that authority to get the Shadows off his world. And he needed that power to fulfill his bargain with G'Kar.

It hadn't been the most popular decision of his career, ordering his people to evacuate. Some of them had wanted vengeance for Cartagia's death. Some of them had been trying to cling to the 'glory' of having their defeated enemies by the throat. But he'd known it was foolish. They couldn't hold the Narns without the Shadows, and if the Shadows remained on Centauri, they were doomed. The Vorlons would destroy them. Besides...he had sworn to G'Kar that he would free the Narn people in return for Cartagia's death, and he felt it was a promise he had to keep. He'd done many dishonorable things in his time, he hadn't wanted that to be one of them. Fortunately, he'd had his reasons for abandoning the Narn Home-world lined up, and thought over them so often he could have recited them in his sleep. So he'd patiently reminded the dissatisfied that the Narns were utter barbarians, and how costly it was to keep a whole rebellious world under constant watch. How troublesome it was. To this he'd added the argument that two emperors had died dealing with the Narns. One striving for peace, the other striving for domination. He'd hinted that he took it as a sign from the Universe that the Narns were to be left alone. Doubtless, the Centauri would do better without dealing with them and they'd manage to wipe themselves out. Or the Shadows and the Vorlons would do it for them. Either way, it wasn't worth the waste in life, resources, time or effort. It still hadn't been the most popular idea, but it had stuck, and his people had gone to start evacuation procedures.

He'd gone back to G'Kar, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction. The Narn had looked even more battered than before, as if he were about to collapse on the spot, but there was that old fire in his eyes. He'd been standing, ringed by his companions, who in turn were ringed by guards. He'd stopped well back, and informed the Narns that they were leaving. Given them the same reasons he'd given his own people. He'd seen more than one angry face in the group, and it would have been unnerving save for the guards and the small, tight smile that touched one corner of G'K'ar's mouth. He'd finished his statement, then ordered the Narns out of the Palace. He hadn't been surprised when G'Kar had refused the escort, nor at the deadline the man had given him, the warning that in two days they'd return, and anyone left would be dead. It hadn't mattered. He and G'Kar both knew he'd have to evacuate that night in order to return home in time to stop the Vorlons from incinerating Centauri Prime. In a way, he'd been grateful that the Narn had guaranteed his safety for so long. Then G'Kar had turned away, his group following him, and vanished.

That had been the last he'd seen of the other man, until his return to Babylon 5. He'd seen the fireworks that evening, that night, and wondered if G'Kar was out there somewhere, celebrating and being made into a hero. He knew the man deserved it, though he wouldn't have been surprised if G'Kar had simply and finally collapsed, taking the rest he'd well and truly earned. He'd had no time nor energy to find out. He'd been as committed to saving his world as G'Kar had been, and there was no time for anything else.

Londo sighed into the darkness. He had to admit, now, that he'd been relieved to see G'Kar on Babylon 5. Even more relieved to see him moving with something like his old grace and dignity, his frame filled out once more with muscle and the signs of steady meals. And then G'Kar had received his prosthetic, cybernetic eye, and things had gone almost back to normal.

Almost. That was the key word. Londo made a disgusted noise into the darkness of his room. He knew he should be grateful that he and G'Kar had a truce. And more than grateful that the bond to the Narn had saved his life. But he was curious. He felt strangely unsettled by the whole thing. His destiny still bound him to the other man, and he had a feeling that G'Kar knew it as well. But the relationship was no longer what it had been, and he wanted to know what the Narn thought. Wanted to know if he'd heard his apology, and how he felt about it. But....

It was the middle of the night, and he was stuck in the infirmary. Even if he'd had the strength to move and get out of bed, he'd only have a furious Doctor Franklin bearing down on him, no doubt followed by the fretting Vir. And he certainly did not intend to go wandering the halls of the station dressed in the little scrap of fabric called a hospital gown. It was far too revealing, far too short, and far too embarrassing.

Londo sighed again, and shifted his shoulders, trying to find a comfortable position. He had just gotten somewhat decently settled when a familiar form darkened the doorway.


	8. Uneasy Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting of the minds...

**Uneasy** **Bridges**

There was silence between them, both of them staring at each other. Then G'Kar strode into the room, bottle in hand and a completely relaxed look on his face. He stopped at the bedside. “Well, I see you are awake after all.” He turned, reaching out to drag a bedside chair closer, then tossed a grin over his shoulder. “I suppose you won't mind if I have a seat?”

Londo almost smiled, hearing the teasing in the voice, that tone G'Kar reserved for times when he was really trying to be irritating. He was sure the man had invented it just for him. Somehow, despite the shock of seeing the Narn in his sickbay at the late hour, it was relaxing. “Go ahead and make yourself at home. You will whether I want you to or not.” He tried to sound somewhat out of temper, just as he always did.

“There is that.” G'Kar smirked, then pulled the chair the rest of the way over and settled gracefully into it. He held up the bottle in one hand. “It's an Earth vintage.” He looked thoughtfully at it. “I'm not entirely sure what they call it, but it's quite excellent.”

Londo snorted. “And I suppose you know I am not allowed to have wine. Dr. Franklin's orders, for my health.” He snorted again. “If what they serve here is healthy...I think I would rather die in comfort.” He didn't mean it, and guessed that G'Kar knew it, from the smile that touched his face.

Still, he wasn't surprised then the Narn produced two glasses. “On that, Mollari, we may agree. And personally, I don't mind contributing to the cause.” He smiled again, and proceeded to pour himself a glass. “Would you like a full or half glass?” He cocked the bottle over the second cup.

“Half. If it does not kill me, I can always have another.” Londo let his old, sarcastic smile touch his face. “Besides, I can claim I am acting in moderation now. Vir would probably expect me to take the whole bottle.”

There was silence between them as they shared the wine. G'Kar was right. It was well made, for an Earth wine. He hadn't known the Narn drank Earth wines, though most ambassadors shared what vices they could. And he had seen G'Kar in a few of the more upscale bars on the station. He took a few sips, letting the alcohol burn it's familiar way down his throat, then looked up at the man beside him. “G'Kar.”

“Hmmm? Finished already?” The Narn looked back at him, absolutely no expression on the spotted face.

“Why are you here?” Londo gestured, then set the cup aside. “That you would come to witness my possible death, I can understand.” He snorted. “I would most likely do the same. But now...I am recovering, and you seem disinclined to smother me with a hospital pillow or knife me in my sickbed. So why? Why come here, in the middle of the night, and share wine?”

“Why not?” G'Kar leaned back. “I was sitting awake, and I thought 'why not?'. If you were asleep, I would have left. But you are not, and I am here, so...why not?” He smiled.

“It is not that simple.” Londo refused to be put off by the bantering tone. A part of him did want to brush it off, but it wasn't so easy. “You and I both know that. We have been enemies, a long time. I would like to say we have come to a truce between us, but it is an uneasy one, and we both know that as well. This...” he gestured to the cups and the bottle. “This is a thing you do for a comrade, or a friend. It is not a thing to do for, or with, your enemy. Even one you have made truce with. Perhaps especially not then.”

“I notice it didn't stop you.” G'Kar gestured to his glass. A small, strained smile still hovered around his mouth. “And you are correct. It is not something I would do with an enemy. But...I was reminded today that you, perhaps, saved my life once. And besides....you said something very remarkable when you regained consciousness. I wished to know if you remembered, and if you meant it. But outside this room, in front of others, we will both lie. And we will both wear masks. So I came to find the answers, here and now.” He met Londo's gaze.

Londo couldn't hold that gaze. There was too much in it, of serenity and passion and understanding. All things he had never credited the Narn with, until recently. “You are right. In front of others, we will both lie. However, today...” He sighed. “I meant it. If I had not, I would likely be dead. But I could not be certain you heard me. Even though....” He paused. He wasn't certain he wanted to discuss what hat happened, but he had a strange feeling that G'Kar knew and was as unsettled as he was. “You were there, did you know?” He gestured vaguely. “There in my mind, on the borders of life and death...you were there. And do you know what you said to me?” He turned his head to meet the red and blue gaze once more.

“Perhaps.” G'Kar's gaze met his, revealing nothing. “Tell me anyway.”

It was a request he couldn't refuse. “You told me I was not worthy to live, because I had done wrong and could not acknowledge it. You told me I should have spoken, that I was a coward. And then...you made me relive that night. And you told me there was only one word I needed to say. That all you asked of me was one little word.” He sighed. “It was the hardest word I have ever spoken. But then...I suppose you understand that.”

“Yes. I do.” G'Kar's voice was quiet. “I had to relive that night with you.” Londo started at the quiet admission that the Narn had shared his trial. He met the odd-colored gaze again. A small smile touched the stern mouth, humorless but real. “Oh yes, Mollari, I was there. I was there. Just as I was truly there, that night. Just as I was here, when you woke. I know what word I challenged you to speak, and how you replied to me. But then...we both know about hard words, don't we?” It was a challenge.

“Yes. We do.” Londo looked away. “I don't suppose you will ever forgive me, for making you yield to Cartagia, then?” He wanted to ask for forgiveness, but he didn't know the words, and he was afraid of the answer.

“Before tonight? No. I would not have.” He blinked, startled by the qualifier, but the Narn only shrugged. “Now? Who knows? I did not expect you to apologize. I did not expect to remember what I have remembered.”

Londo snorted. “I would expect you to remember how much you absolutely hated me, if anything.”

G'Kar's laugh echoed his own. “If I had remembered that, Mollari, do you think I would have told you how to live?” He shook his head, the faint burst of humor disappearing from his eyes. “No. I was told once, long ago, that to save my world I must move past hatred. So...” He shook his head and let the thought die, unfinished. “I cannot hate, not as well as I once did. And what I feel now...even I cannot guess. Tell me, Mollari, what do you feel?” The red eye came back to him, the gaze sharp and penetrating.

“I don't know.” Mollari shook his head. “I suppose I should feel gratitude, but this is too complex for that. Or perhaps not, but it is a long time since I felt gratitude to anyone. As for you...” he paused. “I don't know. Like you, I can no longer hate. I stopped hating you the day I asked you to save us from Cartagia. Perhaps even before then. But I fear you. Yes, I fear you a great deal. I have always done so.” He looked up. “Did you know that? That I have feared you from the day I met you, there on Earth?”

“Well, I knew we were unlikely to be on good terms.” G'Kar smiled tightly.

“No. That is true, I suppose.” Mollari found himself returning the expression. “I find it ironic, really. That you should save my life now, when you will end it in a few years.” He shook his head.

“Indeed?” G'Kar looked at him. “I wasn't aware of any such plans. Perhaps you should enlighten me. After all, if it is meant to be, I should hate to disappoint.”He poured out a little more wine.  


“Yes. I suppose you would.” Mollari looked away once more, then picked up his cup and took a long drink, to steady his nerves. “We Centauri...we can sometimes see our deaths, you know. Long ago, I saw mine, in a dream. You were there, and I was Emperor, and we were both old men. And you had my throat in your hands, trying to throttle me. And I was returning the favor. We both died, pitted against each other.” He snorted. “At the time, I didn't even know who you were. But there, on Earth, I saw you, and I knew that you would bring my death.” He sighed. “And I have feared and tried to hate you ever since.”

“Hmm...well, you aren't Emperor yet, so I suppose I will just have to be patient.” G'Kar looked at him, amusement mixing with darker emotions in his gaze. “And since that is the case...” He leaned over, and topped off Londo's glass. “We might as well have a drink to celebrate.” He lifted the glass. “To memories, your current recovery, and our apparent future.”

“Indeed.” Londo followed suit, tossing back the last of his drink. He felt suddenly tired, drained by this attempt to connect with a man he had once hated. It was suddenly difficult, to try and think of what to say. He wasn't sure what to say, how to ask what he wanted to ask. In fact, he wasn't all that sure what he _did_ want to ask the Narn. He felt as if he were standing on an unsteady bridge over a chasm, and a single wrong word would tip him into the depths. He didn't want to remind G'Kar of his humiliation and torture, though he wanted to ask what the Narn had remembered that had brought him here tonight. He both wondered at and feared the thoughts drifting through that mind.

G'Kar sat regarding him a moment, then lifted the bottle. His mouth curved in amusement. “It appears that the bottle is empty.” He rose, his smooth graceful movement giving lie to the knowledge of scars that crossed his body. Then his eye met Londo's. “I wish you a good evening Mollari. Perhaps we'll discuss this more some other time.”

The comment about lies and masks returned to his mind. “G'Kar, wait.” The tall form turned and a red eye regarded him with a wordless question. “I would like to ask you one more thing.”

“Then ask.” G'Kar's voice gave no hint to his feelings.

“If we do not hate...if we are perhaps at a truce, for at least this moment, where does that leave us? For me...I feel as if I am dangling in space, uncertain which step is safe. But if this state is to continue....” He paused, uncertain if he wanted reassurance, or affirmation or even just an acknowledgment of the uncertainty that lay between them.

“Who knows?” G'Kar's dark smile flashed once more in the dim room, somehow comforting. “There is a very old human saying: 'we will have to cross that bridge when we come to it.' And that is, perhaps, the best that can be said of any situation.” The Narn held his gaze a moment longer, then bowed. “Good night, Mollari.” Then he turned and was gone, before Londo could stop him.

Londo stared at the door a moment, then sighed and settled back. Still, he felt oddly comforted. He could tell by G'kar's voice that the Narn was as uncertain as he was, and just as uncomfortable. For all the strange serenity that cloaked the other man, this was an uneasy place for both of them, a fragile truce that could be broken with a word. But...it was truce, and it was a beginning, or could be. He sighed again, savoring the after-taste of the wine, and let himself sink into oblivion.


	9. Where From Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion takes place

**Where** **From** **Here?**

Londo stood outside the door to G'Kar's quarters, and wondered what in the Makers name he was doing there. It was late. He'd only been released from the Medlab a few days ago, and Doctor Franklin's lectures on how to take care of himself were still ringing in his ears. None of those lectures had included sending Vir off on a wild goose chase and wandering down here, to G'Kar's quarters, at this hour of the night. He didn't even know if the man was still awake, much less if the Narn would let him in.

Standing in the corridor wasn't going to answer any of his questions. Worse, the longer he stood here, the more likely it was that someone would come by and see him there. At best, they would probably assume he was here to start a disturbance. At worst, they would be curious, and he had no answers he wanted to give them. He sighed, then moved forward and pressed the button beside the door. Maybe G'kar would be asleep.

“Come.” The low voice that answered was definitely the Narn's. The door slid aside, to reveal G'Kar in the middle of his room. The Narn blinked. “Mollari.”

“Yes. I know.” He shifted uncomfortably. “And now that you know I am here do you still intend to permit me to enter, or should I run before your door attempts to slice me in half?” He tried to put the old sarcasm back in his tone, but it was half-hearted. He wasn't even sure if he wanted G'Kar to invite him in, or tell him to leave.

“Oh, you might as well come in. This is far too interesting to let you walk away.” The Narn gestured impatiently. “But you'd better hurry, or someone will see you there. Doubtless, they'll assume you're here to assassinate me or some such nonsense.”

The words were unnervingly close to his own thoughts. They were also true. Londo stepped across the threshold, trying not to flinch as the door hissed closed behind him. He turned to the room, trying to find some distraction in it.

The room was darker than he was used to, set to Narn normal lighting, which G'Kar naturally preferred. The furniture was all dark and heavy, including what looked like a solid stone table. There was an altar to one side of the room, not at all surprising, given what a religious man G'Kar was. But the couch looked comfortable, if not exactly to his tastes, and the chairs appeared relatively well padded.

“You may as well have a seat. Personally, I'd take the couch if I were you. I keep it for my non-Narn guests.” G'Kar waved. “I assume you will eventually get around to telling me what led to this unexpected visit, yes?” He cocked his head, fixing Mollari with his gaze. “In the meantime, perhaps you'll excuse me if I find some attire more suited to having visitors.”

With a start, Londo realized that he'd caught G'Kar in a rare state of relaxation. The armor was gone, and the heavy, floor-length jacket the Narn usually wore. A loose shirt, open to mid-chest, and a dark pair of trousers were all that covered the man's frame. Even his hands were bare. A quick glance at the desk revealed an open manuscript, so he'd probably been writing.

G'Kar started to turn away, but Londo held up his hand. “There is no need to trouble yourself on my account. In fact, if you do not object...” He shifted, loosening the cravat at his throat. The temperature in G'Kar's quarters was higher than he was used to. “I would not object to getting rid of a few of these myself. It is so very hot in here, you know? At least, for a man of my culture.”

“Hmmm, yes. And I wouldn't want to get Centuari sweat all over the furniture. It would take forever to clean.” G'Kar grinned, no real heat in the barb. “By all means, Mollari, make yourself comfortable.” There was a touch of sarcasm in the tone, a match for the ironic half-gesture he made.

Londo nodded. “Of course.” After a moment of thought, he unsnapped the cuff links on his wrists, and removed his jacket. A second later, his waistcoat followed it, leaving him in pants and shirt, much as the Narn was. Without the heavy layers of fabric, the room seemed much cooler. Or perhaps it was only the way his hearts had ceased to race, realizing the Narn wasn't going to throw him out, or put a knife in him. G'Kar was many things, but courteous to an intended target of his rage wasn't one of them, normally.

G'Kar disappeared into his dining area, to reappear a moment later with two cups and a bottle. “Drink? It's not brivari I'm afraid, but it isn't Narn either.” He shrugged. “The people of Earth do make such interesting beverages. Of course, that's if Doctor Franklin has released you.” He smirked.

“You know very well he has not. But, as you also know, what he does not discover cannot possibly trouble him.” Londo snorted. “We have already both made a habit of defying his rules. I see no reason to discontinue such a fine tradition, no?”

“Ah, yes. You may be correct.” G'Kar shrugged, and edged his chair over toward the table, setting both glasses down and pouring a measure of the liquid into each. As he moved, the light caught on his hands, rough with marks of old battles. The edge of his sleeve slipped back from his wrist, to reveal the scars left by manacles.

The sight sent a cold chill through Londo's gut. He didn't want to think about how the scars had gotten there, slowly gouged by friction into the other man's arms. He jerked his gaze up, to G'Kar's face. The Narn held out a drink, and as he looked up, one red eye and one blue flashed at Mollari.

Londo took the glass and took a quick sip, trying to regain his mental balance. And yet, the wounds were a part of what lay between them, and he knew it. As much as he didn't wish to speak of it, a part of him knew they would have to address the issue at some point. He took another drink, wondering if there was any way he could get drunk enough to open the discussion without killing himself.

“Something troubles you.” G'kar spoke quietly from his own seat. Surprisingly, there was nothing in the tone but observation. He might have been commenting on a view of the stars. He leaned forward, and topped off Londo's glass. “Something tells me, it is not the temperature of my quarters.”

“No, it is not.” Londo took another swallow, then took a breath. His gaze fixed on G'Kar's artificial eye. It was safe enough. Probably hundreds of people had commented on it. “You know, that eye doesn't suit you. It makes you look altogether too human. Have you spoken to Doctor Franklin about that?”

“I have. He assures me that it is quite easy to get...what was the word? Ah, yes. To get contact lenses that will change the color without inhibiting my vision. He has promised to order me some, as soon as it is possible to do so.” G'kar settled back, taking another drink from his own glass. “Did you come all this way just to ask about that? You could have waited. Or even joined the crowds of people making the same comment, all over the station.”

“I know. But then...I would not dare to ask....” He took another drink, looking for courage in the fire burning it's way down his throat. “In a different place, I would not ask if it still pains you. If your other injuries still pain you.”

“Are you asking?” G'Kar's voice was still quiet, neutral, but there was a hint of tension in it.

“Yes. I am asking you. I am asking if you are still in pain, from what Cartagia did to you. If the price that was demanded of you from our bargain is still being paid.” Londo wanted to take another drink, wanted it very badly. But in this moment of truth, he didn't quite dare. He wanted to hear G'Kar's answer and he wanted to do so without resorting to the defense of alcohol.

“Why? Do you wish to salve your conscience? Or is it simple curiosity? Would you like to know that I still suffer? Or that I do not?” G'Kar's tone was challenging this time, but curiously lacking in anger.

“I would like to believe that the wounds have healed, though I know...what Cartagia did...no doubt it is not that simple.” Londo sighed. “As to why...why indeed? I do not know either. I wish I did. Perhaps....perhaps it is only because I should have asked, then. When Cartagia....” He stopped, not wanting to say the word, uncertain of the memories it would bring to the other man's mind.

“Say it, Mollari. Acknowledge it.” G'Kar's demand cut through the stillness like a knife. “You know what was done.”

“Yes. I do. Cartagia tortured you, mutilated you. He...humiliated you.” That word slipped hard past his throat. Londo swallowed and looked away. “I said I would watch, but the truth is, I could not, any more than I can look you in the eye right now.” Londo swallowed again, feeling as though the wine had turned to rocks in his gut. “I tried my best to see as little as possible of what you suffered. And what I did see, I wish that I had not.” He turned the glass in his hands, the words coming forth unexpectedly. “Vir asked me, once, how I could witness such torture and remain uncaring. How I could see what they were doing to you, and remain silent. I told him it had to be that way. But...you may not believe me, but I did care. I wished at the time that I had not.”

“You remained silent.” G'Kar's voice gave nothing away. Londo looked up, but the angular face was still, relaxed. In the dreams, he had been emotional, and Londo had seen the pain and the anger. But now he was still, calm. Waiting.

“Yes. I remained silent. Because I was afraid, and I did not know anything I could say. And I did not look, except there at the end, because I could not conceive of facing you.” Londo sighed. “Would it surprise you to know that, aside from cowardice, I was trying to spare you? I thought that perhaps you would not want me to see it. That perhaps you would feel your torture was easier to endure without me there. I don't know. Perhaps, it would have been easier, if you had felt you had an ally there, among your tormentors. If I misjudged, then I am sorry. But then, I suppose that is part of the reason that I am here now.”

There was silence in the room for several moments. Londo stared at his drink, waiting for G'Kar's words. He had said all he knew how to say, and there was nothing he could do, not until he knew what the Narn was thinking.

“You did not misjudge.” G'Kar's voice was soft. Londo looked up, and the Narn favored him with a tight, pained smile. “I did not want you to see what was done. And I too wish you had not been there that night. But then...perhaps...I would not have screamed, if you had not reminded me of the price. We will never know.”

“And your back...?” Londo stopped, unable to get further words past his throat.

The tight smile disappeared. “It aches. It will always ache, Mollari. That cannot be prevented now. But it is less than it might have been. I can bear it.”

“Yes. I suspect we will both have to bear our memories.” Londo finally found the strength to take another swallow of his drink.

There was silence between them for several minutes. Both of them nursed their drinks, their thoughts lost in the memories shared between them. Londo drank slowly, strangely unwilling to seek the solace of the bottle just then. The coward part of his mind said he was merely afraid to face another near-death experience. Another part of his mind wanted to believe it was because he did not want to be drunk with this man, this man he had shared so much with, both in suffering and salvation.

The silence was becoming uncomfortable, too heavy with memory. Londo looked up, met the gaze of the man seated across from him. “So then...you claim to have found enlightenment, these days. So tell me, G'Kar...where do we go from here, eh?” He sighed. “We have seen the worst of each other, and perhaps...a small smidgen of the good as well. Someday, you are destined to kill me. And yet...we are no longer enemies. Instead, we have a truce, almost an alliance between us. So then...where do we go from here?”

“We move forward.” G'kar shrugged. “I have no wish to fall back into the darkness, Mollari. Do you?” Londo shook his head, and the Narn nodded. “Then we will move forward. Perhaps, one day, I will fulfill your dream, and come to claim your life. But not today, and not tomorrow. As for what happens in between, who can say? We will continue to have this strange alliance between us, and what is to become of it will be for both of us to decide. Outside this door, we will wear our masks, to hide our secrets from others. But perhaps, sometimes, we will meet like this, and the masks will come off, and we will look each other in the eyes again.” He shrugged again. “That really is up to both of us, isn't it?”

“It is. But...would you want to continue this?” Londo swallowed.

“Perhaps. At the very least, it is interesting. And it does prevent boredom from setting in, does it not?” G'Kar smiled. “Besides...if the strangest path should occur, and we became something like friends...well, think of the scandal it would cause.”

“Yes, that would be amusing. Though no doubt, it would give Sheridan some peace of mind, no? And Delenn, and the station security.” Londo felt himself relax enough to return the other man's smile. “Yes, you are right. It is certainly an entertaining possibility to consider.” He raised his nearly empty glass in toast. “To an interesting future, eh?”

“To the future.” G'Kar returned the salute, and tossed back his own drink. “Now, if you don't mind, I have a bed to seek, and I believe you have one as well, unless you were planning on sleeping on my couch.”

“Maker forbid.” Londo rose hastily. Truce might have been established, but he wasn't going to go that far. He gathered his clothing. “Very well. I wish you a good evening.” He turned.

G'Kar stepped in front of him, stopping him as the door hissed open. The Narn stuck his head into the corridor, glanced in all directions, then pulled back. “It's safe. There are no witnesses, Mollari.” He smirked.

“Good. Then I shall wish you good night, and be on my way.” Londo stepped out. “I will see you tomorrow, in Council, yes?”

“Of course. Perhaps we'll even have a chance to speak again.” G'Kar favored him with a final smirk, and then reached over to touch his door control. “Good night, Mollari.” The door whisked closed, to leave Londo standing in the corridor.

Londo stared at the door a moment, then turned away. He felt tired, but strangely relaxed. G'kar was right. They would go forward. Perhaps the strange alliance would deepen. Perhaps new circumstances would force them to animosity once more. But...the memories they shared, good and bad, lingered between them. And somehow, they formed a bond that could not be shaken, an understanding that, in a way, was more relaxing than any friendship he had ever had before. For the first time, he was almost unafraid of the future. He sighed, then continued to his quarters, to undress and sink into his bed. G'kar was right. The future was certainly going to be...interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so here we are, at the end of the roller coaster.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, this is kind of a lot of soul searching and character study. But it seemed like the kind of thing that would happen between these two.


End file.
